Chapter Eight
Awakening the Blossom

"A successful day, my lord. I anticipate tomorrow will be equally as smooth," said Tirion, son of the steward, as he rose from his seat and gathered his cloak and various papers.

Eldarion nodded. "Relations with Dol Amroth and Rohan remain strong, and thankfully the treaties with the peoples of Haran still hold firm. It is comforting to know our alliances endure."

"And to know the extended kingdom abroad is yet the power greatest in all Middle-earth."

"Let us not boast, for pride has devastating consequences."

Tirion smiled. Eldarion's voice always sounded so imposing when echoing against the pillared stone walls of the throne room. Just now it had fallen to a deep whisper, as if he were afraid those who deal out the "devastating consequences" would overhear the conversation.

"Of course, Lord King. I will retire now. May the stars shine for you this night," Tirion said, bowing and turning to leave.

"And for you," Eldarion replied.

He watched the last of the men his advisors, friends, and fellow royalty leave the hall. When the last had said their farewells and the room was silent and empty, Eldarion rose from the dais. He put his cape over his shoulders and fastened the eagle clasp in place. Then he walked to the cabinet by the wall, and lifted the crown from his head. He placed it and the scepter inside the cabinet, and closed the door. He breathed a small sigh of thankfulness for another day of court completed, and another day of peace secured for his country. For while his subjects might live day to day in careless bliss, he knew trouble still lurked in shadows and the remnants of evil yet held to the frayed edges of their cause. But today had gone well, tomorrow looked promising, and as the evening approached Eldarion allowed his thoughts to take other paths.

Night had draped a gentle cloak across the sky, and in it tiny jewels glittered. The air was sleepy and soft, but the breeze fluttered with little swirls of excitement. Eldarion walked slowly to the foot of the Tower of Ecthelion, and began to ascend its pearly white stairs. Half way to the top he stopped.

A young woman stood at the railing, her golden hair rippling behind her, and her dress trailing on the steps. Her eyes searched the vast expanse of evening, yet as she heard his footsteps she turned.

"You were not in the garden," he said softly. "Nor the library. Nor on the balcony."

She took a step backwards as he climbed higher.

"I had almost given up hope of finding you, but then I remembered this place," he said.

She did not answer. Her face was difficult to read in the shadows, but he could see confusion in her eyes. He did not understand it.

"But why have you stopped here? Will you walk to the top with me?" he asked.

He led the way up the stairs, and she followed slowly.

Now at the highest point of the tower they stood still and silently looked over the land far beneath their feet. But Eldarion found the countryside less engaging than lovely woman at his side.

"Where is your lothmelda?" he asked.

She trembled.

"It is waiting to bloom," she answered, her eyes attempting to avert his gaze.

At first he smiled merely because she had spoken, and he noted again how sweet her voice was. But then her words sounded again in his mind, and their meaning perplexed him.

"But it has already bloomed," he replied.

"Yes," she answered softly. "Yet it is afraid to reveal its true form."

"I know it is very beautiful."

"No, it is shy. It is hidden behind the shelter of a locked door."

He stepped closer to her, and now she looked into his eyes.

"May I find the key?" he asked gently.

"The key is lost," she said, and suddenly turned away from him.

"Why?" He walked up behind her, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

She stepped away.

"You have changed, my liege," she whispered.

Her words stung.

"My liege?" he asked. "What is this you call me?"

"It is your title, lord," she answered.

"My title? From other's mouths, perhaps. But not from you."

"I am no different. I remain the daughter of the steward, nothing more. Why should I have any right to forgo reverence due to you, my king?"

"Is it because I am king now?"

He walked around her to see her face.

"Is that what you mean?"

She nodded.

"How has that changed me?"

"I am not in a position to answer, lord," she replied.

"Please tell me," he said. "Tell me, Wenny."

At the use of her pet name she faltered. Her eyes lost their mask for a moment and betrayed emotions she was struggling so strongly to suppress.

"I am nothing now. Before, I …"

"Wenny?" he interrupted. "Nothing has changed."

"But it has!" she exclaimed.

"No, no. Nothing has changed. I am still the same. You are still the same."

"You have a position now, a kingdom, much responsibility. You have everything."

"Not everything," he said, looking pained.

He paused.

Slowly he unclasped the eagle pin at his shoulder, letting it and the cape drop to the floor. He picked them up, carried them to the edge of the tower, and let them fall. Theodwyn gasped sharply as she watched the fabric flutter down, down, down to the ground far below. Eldarion also watched them fall, and then turned again to face Theodwyn.

"It is a covering, Theodwyn. My cloak is like my title and my position. It is not me. It is not even a part of me. It can be forsaken almost as easily. And it can hide my heart. I will not forsake my kingdom, but neither will I suffer forever hidden beneath a cloak I inherited. Titles are bestowed, love is earned. I love you, Wenny. You earned my respect; you earned my love. Please, do not ask me to throw it away."

She had tears running down her cheeks. From behind the watery glaze, a flicker of passion glowed in her beautiful eyes. He walked to her and took her delicate hands in his.

"Why do you weep?"

She could not answer. Her chin trembled.

"I love you, dearest. Do not cry."

He kissed her forehead.

She smiled. He looked into her eyes, and she looked into his. They understood one another. He drew her into his arms and held her. She let her head fall onto his shoulder.

"I will always love you, my Wenny. My vanimelda."

She smiled at the lovely name he called her. "You are silly, Eldarion."

He pulled away so he could look at her face. She smiled. He held both her hands in one of his, and with his free hand he wiped the traces of tears from her face.

"How am I silly, melda-nin?" he asked.

She giggled.

"You copy your father even in his manner of courtship."

He pretended to look aghast.

"How so?"

"He called your mother vanimelda."

"And so she was, but you are my beautiful love, my beauty of the stars."

"Am I?"

"Aren't you?"

"I should hope so."

"For all time?"

"Would you like that?"

"Yes."

"So would I."

They stood for a moment, silent and so happy.

Then he spoke again, "Have I found the key?"

"No."

He looked confused.

"You have woken the blossom to full bloom."

She laughed gently.

And he gathered her into his arms again, and kissed her.

Author Note: Thanks to my all my reviewers. You're awesome. Here's the newest chapter, which for some reason was really easy to write… I hope it turned out okay. It didn't quite capture what I wanted it to…but maybe most of it will come across. Please continue to review, even if you have a correction/suggestion. Vane Alasse

Elvish translations:

vanimelda – could be either "beautiful love" or "beauty of the stars" (i.e. vani-melda – beauty-love or vanim-elda – beauty-stars)

melda-nin – my love

Replies to Reviewer Questions:

Lossenrhos:
Q.) I loved the custom of the white flower (did you make that up?) A.) Yes. :) I thought it was pretty cool, too. Thanks!

Q.) Have you had anything published? I think you ought to. You really know how to write.

A.) Thanks. :) Well, I published myself in a student newspaper for a few years, but that doesn't really count. I have had three poems really published, though. That was really exciting for me, because I hope to be a published author someday.

Dixieland Delight:

Q.) What Rings genealogy are you referring to? Just curious.

A.) It's called "The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth; A complete guide to all fourteen of the languages Tolkien invented." It was written by Ruth S. Noel, and is a small book with a red cover. It's a great resource for fanfiction writers, and Tolkien enthusiasts. It isn't just a dictionary, though. It also has a very detailed geneology and tells how to use the elvish script. Thanks for asking:) Sometimes I forget to clarify myself...

Iluvien:

Q.) How old are Eldarion and Theodwyn? Wouldn't he live much longer than her?

A.) Umm... You're right. He would live much longer than she would, and that will be discussed in a later chapter (if I keep writing...). Eldarion is probably pretty old (late 40s), while Theodwyn is in her late teen or early twenties. But the difference wouldn't seem that vast considering Eldarion will probably live to be 200+. He's got the youth of both the Numenorians and the Eldar on his side, so he might look and act only late-20s or early-30s. It might seem strange to pair up two people who are so vastly different in actual age, but think about Arwen and Aragorn: she was 2,690 years older than him! That was a good question. Thanks:)

P.S.
I have updated the last chapters that needed it. Sorry about any confusions with the names of Steward Barahir's children. They are: Tirion, Thalion, and Theodwyn. No, I didn't make them all "t" names on purpose…it just kinda happened that way.

Character Name Translations:

Eldarion – son of elves

Telcontar (Eldarion's title) – literally "high stem." Means "royal," also "Strider."

Theodwyn – delight of the people

Tirion – one who watches

Thalion – steadfast, strong